Good Partner
by whocares10315
Summary: Stan can't escape the fact that he and Craig are paired up, and maybe doesn't care so much anymore. But now he has to figure out if Craig is going to be a good partner or not…


_**[fanfic] Good Partner**_

**Title:** Good Partner

**Author:** **whocares10315**

**Pairing:** Craig/Stan **Chapter:** One Shot [sequel to Paired Up]

**Rating:** M for offensive language and strong sexual content

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Matt and Trey's precious babies.

**Author's Notes:** Dedicated to **diana_lucifera** for the request.

**Summary:** Stan can't escape the fact that he and Craig are paired up, and maybe doesn't care so much anymore. But now he has to figure out if Craig is going to be a good partner or not…

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**Good Partner**

Stan waited at his house alone, feeling anxious. He wasn't anxious about being left by himself; his father at work, his mother out shopping and his sister at a concert. He was anxious because Craig was going to be coming over to finish up their project. Stan took a deep breath, tugging at his dark hair in frustration at his own nervousness.

But it would be the first time they're together after—well, that _thing_. Stan hadn't gone up to Craig at all about the project or meeting up, but Craig hadn't talked to him either, simply e-mailing Stan his information and work. Otherwise, things had gone back to normal. Craig hung out with his people, Stan hung out with his. When they saw each other or sat at the same lunch table, it was civil. But Stan's usually conversational words would get eaten up when Craig met his eyes.

_I'm coming over to your house today,_ Craig had said to him, almost in passing, carelessly thrown over his shoulder as he left the lunch table.

_What? Don't just invite yourself over, asshole, I didn't say it was cool!_

_It's cool,_ Craig had insisted flatly, shrugging with his apathetic expression. He had turned and left, leaving Stan to steam, speechless.

Stan hated how different he became with Craig recently since that incident. Stan had asked himself a series of questions; many concerning his identity.

Stan lived a very straight-forward life. Sure, some shit had hit the fan during his childhood, but overall, he had a very logical outlook on life. Even his crazy ideas as a kid had some base of logic. He had just wanted to have fun. But growing older had only made him more logical. And more confused at the world; it had seemed so simple as a child. There was his world, then the adult world, which was stupid and complicated. Now that he was old enough to be categorized into that world, he felt like he didn't understand anything.

That was probably why Wendy, someone self-assured about who she was and what she wanted to do, left him.

Or was it because of something else?

Stan rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes with a groan.

He had liked a ton of girls before, he tried to tell himself. Plenty. He didn't like dudes. He just didn't. He wasn't a fag. No. No. No. He was a normal boy who liked normal girls.

The thought that Wendy was probably the only girl he _really_ liked haunted him. The thought of Craig's lips and tongue and teeth kept him up at night. The justification that his preference doesn't make him any less normal, kept floating into his conscience.

"What the hell, man," Stan sighed, leaning his head back on the couch. He remembered how angry he had gotten with Craig. He almost never got that angry. Why? Why had it happened like that? And Craig- asshole Craig, who looked sure and apathetic about everything. And even when his expression did change, it was to allow his lips to twist into that irritating smirk. That "I know better than you" smirk. The one that only appeared very seldom.

The very thought made Stan clench his fists in his lap and grind his teeth.

He wanted to beat the shit out of that smirk.

Stan grabbed his notebook, flipping through his notes aimlessly before tossing his book back onto the table leaning back, sighing. He moved to lie down only to sit up again moments later. It seemed that he could not sit still, not knowing when Craig was going to get there.

He finally opted to just try to sleep until Craig got to his house so he'd have enough energy to deal with working with him. But even that didn't work. His eyelids would twitch and flicker, as if not understanding Stan's desire to sleep. Stan released a noise of frustration as he kicked lightly at his coffee table, crossing his arms over his chest.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Before Stan could gain control over his jolting heart and get the door, Craig opened it and stood in the doorway. Stan didn't even ask himself how the door was open.

"Craig," he said uselessly, sitting up as the other dark-haired boy shut the door behind him and stared back at him silently.

"Way to be late, dickhole," Stan scoffed, finally feeling his blood flowing normally again as thought's function in his brain returned. "Let's finish this thing, finally!"

But as Stan moved to look through his notes, Craig slowly advanced toward him, eyes the same deadpan blue-grey.

"Fuck the project," Craig said in an almost cold fashion, moving to stand right in front of Stan, looking down at him. "That's not what I'm here for."

Stan swallowed tightly, mentally kicking himself for the heat he felt in his cheeks.

"Th-then what the hell are you doing here?" Stan asked, trying to hold his ground though he could feel it slipping with every movement Craig made.

Craig knelt in front of Stan, meeting him at eye level, disarming Stan with his inescapable gaze.

"For you," Craig said flatly, as if Stan was stupid. He leaned in without another word, enveloping his lips with his warm tongue, tracing the outline of his mouth. Stan resisted a whimper as Craig placed his hands on his knees, spreading them so that he could be closer to him.

Craig grabbed Stan's chin, holding it fast as he kissed him fiercely, sucking and tugging at Stan's lower lip, one hand sliding up Stan's inner thigh and cupping him harshly.

Stan made a little noise in the back of his throat, feeling his back arch instinctively to the touch.

"S-stop, don't touch me there," Stan stammered, hands on Craig's shoulders, trying to push him back, turn his head away and close his knees.

"Shut up," Craig said, crushing his lips against Stan's, making the seated boy sigh into it, answering it with shameful passion, groaning at Craig's firm fingers. Craig pulled Stan's shirt up, moving his lips over one of Stan's nipples, swirling his tongue around it as his other nipple was stimulated until taut by his calloused fingertips.

"_Nnh,_ Craig," Stan panted, moving to clench his hands into Craig's hair roughly. Craig moved his lips down, unbuttoning Stan's pants and mouthing him over the thin material of his boxers.

"Please, Craig, _ah_," Stan pleaded, propping his feet up on the edge of the couch's seat, spreading his knees.

Stan cried out quietly when he felt Craig tug his boxers down, freeing him and licking the head. Craig smirked in that annoying way up at Stan, making the squirming brunette growl in frustration before dissolving into a mess of moans at the feel of Craig's mouth around his head. Stan's body quivered when Craig moved to tease his flush nipple, coupled with his mouth.

The sensations were so good, Stan didn't question them…

_Ding dong._

Stan opened his eyes, dazed and flushed, feeling like his entire body was hot and cold.

_Ding. Dong._

Stan frowned. The doorbell? He then looked down at himself and realized that the last five to ten minutes weren't real. His hand was very masterfully wrapped around his half-aroused length and his feet were propped up as if he was ready to be penetrated. Stan's blush deepened at his own embarrassment. Then another problem- someone was still at the door.

"Marsh, get the door. It's me. I know you're in there," Craig's deadpan voice said from the other side of the door. "If you don't hurry up, I'm picking the lock. Or breaking a window."

_Fuck!_ It was Craig. Stan put away his business, zipping up, tugging his T-shirt down and trying to look presentable. He felt his blood boil at the nerve behind Craig's words. What an asshole. But even as he thought that, he felt his face burn still- he had fantasized about him, hadn't he?

Stan was, needless to say, angry at himself for being so confused when his life had been so simple. His thought process, so simple. Until then. He finally answered the door with a mix of guilt and accusation in his expression.

"-the hell's wrong with _you_? You on your period?" Craig asked nonchalantly, walking past Stan right into his home.

"Hey to you, too," Stan seethed, closing the door and glaring at Craig. What the hell was so arousing about _that_ piece of shit?

"Look, just change your tampon and let's finish this," Craig said, sounding serious; any stupid person would be convinced that Craig thought Stan was actually a woman, just because when Craig was being sarcastic or cruel, it sounded just the same as when he was being brutally honest. It just all molded together into one tone. He just sounded so-emotionless, all the time. Stan wondered how Craig lived with himself like that. He wondered if Craig ever told a joke. He wondered if Craig ever _laughed_ at a joke.

Stan frowned deeply to himself as he sat beside Craig on the couch. He wondered why he was thinking so damn much about Craig and the details of his life.

"Here," Craig said, handing Stan a packet of surprisingly well-composed notes. "That's the last of it for the concluding slide. I figured I'd just come over in case you had questions since I know you're retarded."

"I'm not retarded, at least I go to class," was Stan's mild answer as he took the notes and stared in awe at them. "You did all of this yourself?" Stan looked at Craig suspiciously- he wouldn't put it past Craig to bully someone smarter than him to do it for him. But for this project, Craig's stuff had been legitimate and thorough. In fact, Craig had always been the one to send Stan the work first. He had all his assignments for the project done before Stan had even started to think about them.

Craig, despite his countenance's inability to change much, looked actually a bit insulted.

"Yeah. I did. Is that the only question you got?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow at the other, as if Stan was wasting his time.

"Why did you kiss me that one time?" Stan asked quietly, not meeting Craig's eyes.

Stan didn't know what possessed him to ask except for the fact alone that Stan wasn't complicated. If he wanted answers, he was going to get them. That's how he always was. That's why he was best friends with Kyle who not only had most of the answers, but was willing to go to the ends of the Earth with him to find the answer with him if he didn't. He was always a curious boy, from a young age. He got himself into lots of trouble for it. But he had never been complex. He was intelligent and mature for his age. But Craig reduced him a petulant child. Why?

"You started it," was Craig's answer. Craig remained unchanged, shrugging. "And you were on top of me. It would have been kinda dick for me to just throw you off after you tried so hard to be unpredictable."

"No, you _did_ throw me off, though!" Stan found himself yelling, finally glaring up at Craig. "And you just left, even when I asked you why then, too! And you gave me some bullshit answer! 'One step at a time, Stan. One step at a time.' Fuck you!"

Craig looked legitimately surprised; or at least as surprised as someone like Craig could be. His eyes had widened slightly, eyebrows raised, lips open. Stan stared at him, angrily waiting for an answer, feeling some satisfaction at the fact that Craig was surprised. He watched Craig slowly close his lips and his eyebrows lower.

"You remembered," Craig said, almost to himself. Before Stan could say anything more, Craig smiled. He didn't frown. Or smirk. He smiled.

"I like listeners," Craig mused, suddenly closing the space between them to take Stan by the front of his shirt and tug him in close enough for their noses to brush. "I knew you liked me."

Stan wanted to argue this, having all the supporting details set up in his mind. But they all scattered as Craig's lips fell open his own, feeding him what he had been so craving. Stan moved to push Craig away, but found that his hands just clenched into Craig's jacket. The tug of Craig's hold on his own shirt reminded him that he couldn't get away from him easily. But he didn't even seem to want to. He breathed heavily through his nose, finding that Craig's lips and tongue suffocated him in the best way. His slick lips slipped over Craig's sloppily as their kiss grew feverish and harsh. Craig nipped at Stan's lips, velvet tongue brushing along Stan's, invading his mouth.

Stan felt tension in the strangest places on his body. His shoulders. His wrists. His toes. His inner thighs. He finally had to pull away to gasp for air, but Craig didn't stop. Every motion was invasive and unstoppable. He never had to deal with such aggression ever before. Craig moved to mark Stan's neck, sucking and biting at his throat, making Stan release a small groan, finding it strange that he had never found that arousing before. He modeled his fantasy and curled his fingers into Craig's hair, tugging slightly as the other brunette shoved him back on the couch, nestling between his legs. Stan propped his feet up and spread his knees, his body moving back to its previous shape before Craig had gotten there.

"Craig," Stan grunted, not sure what he had said his name for. "Stop." Even though a part of Stan still said no, stop, don't, his body was responding so well to Craig. There was no true will or desire behind Stan's words. It was as if he was simply saying it. The narrow yet lean body that belonged to Craig rocked against Stan, creating friction between Stan's legs.

"_Uuhn,_" Stan groaned lowly, biting his lower lip as he felt Craig's teeth and lips on his collar bone. Craig's strong hands held his hips as he rocked his hips up against Stan's, none-too-gently.

"Doesn't seem like you want me to stop," Craig said evenly, straightening his long arms, one at each side of Stan's head as he leaned over the other, teasingly rolling his hips, their jeans rubbing against each other pleasantly.

"F-fuck you," Stan whispered, his face feeling flush again at the sight of Craig's very still eyes. Stan noticed the way Craig's lower lip looked flush and wet; he licked his own at the thought that he had done that to even the emotionless Craig.

In response, Craig bucked his hips harshly into Stan's, earning a keening moan, that was emasculating for a boy like Stan. Craig's lips twitched in a smirk as he moved a hand between their sealed bodies to unbutton Stan's pants.

Stan's eyes widened as he stared at Craig's hand and what it was doing; it was just like how he had imagined it earlier. But instead of touching him, Craig simply opened Stan's pants, making it known that Stan was aroused under his boxers.

The way Craig sneered at it made Stan uncomfortable and defensive. But Craig moved to unbutton his own pants and tug them down slightly. Stan's breath grew short as he let his head fall back and his eyes fall shut. He could give in to this, he thought. At least just this once. Right? It was fine. Nobody had to know. It was just a thing. Whatever.

Craig pressed his lower torso flush against Stan's, starting to thrust against him.

"_Ah!_ Jesus Christ," Stan gasped, suddenly arching his body up to meet Craig's, molding it completely as he wrapped his arms around Craig's ribs, knees spreading and moving up. He rolled and rocked his hips back up against Craig to meet his movements, feeling their arousals catching at every thrust through their boxers.

Craig grunted quietly in the crook of Stan's neck, reaching behind Stan to hold the couch's arm rest, using it as leverage to roughly buck his hips into Stan, clearly not holding back. There was no grace to Craig's movements. But it was clear by the way Craig's face tensed and his breath grew short, he simply wanted to live in the sensation as Stan did. He watched Stan's face contort and squint as he dry-humped Stan harshly, moving his free hand under one of Stan's knees to simulate what they both wanted but couldn't commit to.

"Craig, _nnh!_ Fuck, _ha_," Stan breathed heavily, not believing how aroused he was getting when sex wasn't even really involved. He reached a hand back to join Craig's on the arm rest, the other one holding onto Craig's shoulder as Craig jostled his firm body with his borderline-violent thrusts.

Stan felt the slick and familiar wetness build between them, the friction of their underwear both annoying and arousing. Stan felt his body heat hit a new high, wishing all of his clothes were off. He felt his toes curl and the tingling sensation in his lower abdomen intensify as he cried out loudly, coming with a surprisingly harsh shiver going through his entire body. Stan writhed and whimpered beneath Craig, wanting to prolong the sensation that throbbed through his entire body. Craig finished soon after, putting Stan's body through more abuse as Craig, too, clung to the ecstatic oblivion, almost making Stan hard again.

Craig collapsed onto Stan, catching his breath against his neck, the warmth between their bodies cooling as they lay there. Stan felt the hand behind him on the arm rest brush against Craig's as they both moved. Stan, embarrassed, moved his hand away, but Craig placed his hand on Stan's, squeezing it. But only for a moment. In fact, it almost seemed like a mistake as Craig sat up. Craig looked down between their bodies before up at Stan. Since Stan had nothing he could possibly say, Craig got up and went to the kitchen, supposedly to clean up a little with some paper towels.

Stan lay there, feeling his body hum with delight at what had just happened. But what had just happened? Stan was just more confused than he was before. There were so many unanswered questions, and while Craig seemed so assured all the time, Stan was starting to understand that Craig just didn't care that there were unanswered questions. He just did what he felt like. And in a way, Stan was jealous of that.

Craig returned, placing the paper towels on the coffee table.

"M'gonna go," Craig said, looking down at Stan, looking virtually unchanged much to Stan's dismay. He was certain that he looked more of a mess than he felt. But Stan wasn't surprised that Craig was going. Craig just- did things. He never thought.

When Craig turned to leave, Stan sat up, calling after him, but no longer in anger. He was too tired for that. Simply- in inquisition.

"Why did you bother coming after not talking to me since last time?" Stan asked, adapting Craig's flat and straight-forward nature. "Why not just forget about it and send me the last of your notes through e-mail like all the other stuff? What real purpose did you have coming to see me, man? Seriously."

Stan had been friends with Craig. Maybe not the best of friends but they were classmates. They saw each other frequently because of the integration of their friend groups. So as a friend, he hoped Craig could answer his question. Because that was all Stan really understood by that point.

Craig turned to Stan, looking a bit—uncomfortable. Or at least disturbed by Stan's question. He didn't meet Stan's eyes, much to Stan's surprise, but he finally answered.

"Maybe I was just trying to make sure you didn't regret having me for a partner," Craig grumbled, two steps away from pouting as his face colored, looking angry. He didn't look at Stan. "Maybe, I just wanted to show you I could do my work if I wanted to."

Stan blinked in surprise and Craig finally met his gaze, lips in a firm line as he practically glared at Stan.

"And I only want to do stupid shit like that when I have someone to impress," Craig finished, almost haughtily before turning his back and leaving without another moment more.

Stan was in shock. That was about as close to an embarrassed Craig he had ever seen his entire life. He felt his face burn up again as he stared at the door.

Craig had just confessed to him that he had wanted to impress him. _Him._ Stan felt a strange lightness in his beating heart. It felt oddly similar to the giddy feeling he got when he just beat a level at a video game, or just got the last pudding at lunch. But more intense. Much more intense.

Because he had just seen a part of Craig that nobody else got to. And for some reason, that made him absurdly happy.

"Well," Stan scoffed to himself, flopping back with his hand on his forehead, still looking fixed in disbelief. "You ended up being a good partner, after all."

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~*Love? Hate? Undecided? Let me know. Thanks for reading!*~


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